What a Tangled Web
by catfoxy
Summary: Ethan is on a mission the rest of the team didn't know about. And when things go wrong, the fallout is severe...
1. Chapter 1

_**Summary**: Ethan is on a mission the rest of the team didn't know about. And when things go wrong, the fallout is severe…. _

_**Fandome**: Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol_

_**Disclaimers**: Do you think I could actually afford to own these characters? *lol* Nope. And I'm not making any money from this either. By the way, this is not beta-read, as I just sat down and simply had to write it down in one go, it was pouring out of my fingers so fast. LOL_

**What a Tangled Web**

There had obviously been a mission. That was their first clue. And as information slowly came in, it became clear that Ethan had been on a one-man tour. The IMF wasn't disclosing what he had been doing or where, but one night, Jane and Brandt – who had been on their own, suspiciously boring missions - got the call to disregard their current assignments and pick Ethan up.

Their initial reaction had been that Ethan might be hurt, caught, kidnapped or in jail again and needed extraction. But the word that IMF had used wasn't 'extraction'. They had declared it a 'pick up'. That in itself was peculiar. And why had the new director, who had called Brandt and Jane personally, sounded so unusually serious when he gave them this top-priority assignment?

The only question they got a clear answer to was related to the number of people that would be sent to 'pick up' Ethan. Apparently Benji wasn't able to join them – some tech conference up North. It sounded complicated. New dangerous hack-codes or something like that - they didn't ask.

So in the end it was Brandt and Jane who had gone to pick up Ethan – and their destination turned out as nothing they had expected. It wasn't a jungle. Nor a blown up leftover of some building Ethan might have been sent to. Hell, it wasn't even a smelly gulag in some place the maps had forgotten.

No.

It was fancy hotel.

They both tried not to wonder why Ethan had to be 'picked up' from a place like that instead of him just getting on the next plane himself and come in.

As they arrived at the lobby, the concierge told them where Mr. Harrier was staying. A nice suite, it turned out. They decided that Jane would go upstairs, while Brandt remained in the lobby to secure their exit – not that he thought there was anything to secure, as there simply wasn't anything suspicious around for miles – but it was standard protocol and Brandt took his orders seriously. Unlike some other agents he wasn't gonna mention by name.

When Jane arrived on the high-rise floor of the hotel's more pricey suites, she hesitated a moment before turning down the hallway to Suite A3, wondering what Ethan's assignment could have been.

Then she knocked on the door. But nobody answered.

Knocking again, a little more loudly this time, she waited again. Nothing.

Okay, this was strange.

Frowning she got out her always ready lock-pick set. After no more than a few second, she had the door unlocked with a soft click. Not hearing a sound from inside the suite, she carefully called out:

"Ethan?"

No answer.

""Ethan, are you in here?" she tried again, carefully moving further into the suite.

Part of her – the agent part – was beginning to get a weird tingling feeling on the back of her neck, and normally she would have reacted to it by drawing her gun – but she didn't. While something was clearly off, it didn't feel…. dangerous.

So she went ahead, through the main room, going further into the suite, cautiously checking each room. Until she reached the bedroom door.

"Ethan?" she hesitantly called out. It was the only room left that she hadn't checked yet. If he was here at all – and IMF had been unusually clear on that he was - he had to be in this room. The question was 'why wasn't he answering her?'...

Carefully she pushed open the door to the bedroom.

The first thing she saw was the bed itself. The coversheet on it was slightly rumpled. Several items were strewn all around the room, including a very expensive-looking, obviously custom-tailored tuxedo. She could also see the torn remains of a ballroom invitation lying on the ground next to it.

And photos.

They appeared to be observation shots. On the night table next to the bed a laptop was plugged into the wall socket, but the screen was black. Next to it laid a stack of CDs. Two of them were broken. As she stepped closer to look at them, she saw Ethan's neat handwriting on several of them. He had obviously been reviewing whatever was on the discs. As she reached to pick one up, she accidentally pushed against the laptop, which suddenly came to life – it had obviously merely been on standby due to lack of further input.

What she saw on the screen made her wonder what on earth the IMF had sent Ethan into. There was a frozen frame of video on the computer screen. The frame showed women. Maybe a dozen or more. All dressed up to look beautiful, but they didn't look happy. Their faces showed fear. And all of them – were lying dead in what appeared to be a simple cargo hold. The picture was disturbing to say the least.

But why was it on Ethan's laptop?

A blinking icon on the bottom of the screen then caught her attention. It was an opened mail from IMF. Whoever read it had apparently failed to log out of the mail properly – hence the blinking.

Against every protocol she knew, but following her intuition, she opened the mail again, somehow feeling that it might hold an explanation to all this.

And when she saw the message, she had to keep her hand from trembling as she read the words:

"_To Agent #10471, _

_regarding mission Ladybird, be advised to move in on supplier soon. Additional video material of recent purchases provided, check CD. New goods apparently stolen all over the US, some already damaged beyond repair. Set up buy ASAP to save rest of shipment._

As Jane once more looked at the frozen video frame on the left-hand side of the screen, and then back at the message that apparently referred to it, she suddenly had a horrible realization:

The mission was a human smuggling ring, kidnapping women all over the US. Someone was obviously trying to sell these women as slaves to rich male buyers. The picture of the dead women – it had to have been either a shipment gone bad, or a warning to the remaining women of what would happen to them if they tried to run.

Remembering the thrown-away tuxedo on the ground beside the bed, Jane realized that Ethan had apparently been sent in as one of those 'rich buyers' to infiltrate the seller's circle and take it apart from the inside out.

But what had gone wrong? What could have been pressuring enough, that IMF apparently decided to cancel the whole mission already half-way in? She took another glance at the horrific frozen picture of the dead women in the cargo hold. And she just couldn't think of anything that would make IMF cancel a mission with so much at stake.

But then she froze. And looked back at the photo. Really looked this time.

There, at the back of the bottom left row of dead women….there was one that looked familiar to her for some reason.

Why did that face look so famili-?

"Oh my God…." Jane gasped.

She knew that woman. Had seen her before. On the mission report Brandt had shown her a few months back. His botched mission from Croatia.

That woman, the one lying there dead in the cargo container – it was the same one that had been in the picture Brandt had shown her, the one of Ethan Hunt and ….

His wife.

Realization hit Jane like a fist to the stomach.

And as she looked up from the laptop screen, the whole scene in the room suddenly made horrific sense. An icy feeling of dread came over her as she took in the state of the bed, the clothes and the strewn CDs.

Ethan had been preparing to go out to the ball. He must have watched the CDs. And then – not even suspecting what he was about to watch - he must have _seen_…..

Fleeting thoughts began racing through Jane's head about how Julia could even by lying dead in this cargo container if she had died months ago in Croatia – but it all fit as she suddenly remembered a cryptic conversation between Brandt and Ethan after one of their first few missions together – and her feeling back then that Brandt and Ethan seemed to have come to an understand of some sort – it suddenly all added up. Julia's death had been staged in Croatia. Probably by Ethan.

But this time - ….. this time Ethan wasn't behind it. This time, it was him who was taken by surprise. And he had been alone when it happened, unsuspecting – unprepared.

'Where is he?' Jane began thinking, urgently, almost frantically.

She saw the adjacent bathroom next to the bed. The door was closed.

"Ethan?" she called out, trying to suppress her fear for Ethan. And for his state of mind. There was no telling how he would have reacted. His wife was dead. Really dead this time.

The IMF, having had no idea that Julia was still alive in the first place, obviously hadn't realized the importance of one of the dead women's identities. But when Ethan failed to report in, didn't show up at the ball, and from one moment to the next apparently ceased all communication with headquarters – that had gotten them to review their intel. And someone must have noticed.

That's why they sent not an extraction unit, but his own team to pick up Ethan.

Nobody had known what to expect. That's why they - his team - had been sent in.

"Ethan, I'm coming in, okay...?" Jane called out, carefully reaching for the door knob, turning it slowly.

When the door opened, she saw the bathtub first. Water had been run in, but it was obviously cold, long forgotten. And leaning against the tub, sitting on the ground next to it with his back to it, was Ethan.

He wasn't…. reacting.

It looked like he had been sitting there for a while, maybe hours – it was impossible to tell. His legs were stretched out before him, his right arm hanging loosely across his legs. In his left arm – he was barely holding on to a near-empty bottle of something that looked like whiskey. His knuckles were white, although his grip was feeble.

But it was his eyes that shook Jane to the core.

There was a darkness in them that Jane had never seen before – not in anyone. He was staring at the empty wall ahead of him, yet clearly not seeing it at all, like he was looking at something far away, further than anyone could look. Beyond this room, beyond the whole damn hotel and beyond, perhaps, even death itself.

"Ethan?" Jane tried gently to approach him.

"Ethan, can you hear me?" she cautiously kneeled down next to him, but not touching him yet, not daring to spook him in any way.

After what seemed like hours, but could in reality have only been a minute, Jane decided to reach for the bottle in Ethan's hand, to carefully slip it out of Ethan's grasp. At first he didn't react. Then his grip slowly tightened – the sinews in his arm slowly tensing, straining – until the glass suddenly imploded beneath his grip, deeply cutting into his fingers.

He didn't even seem to be aware of it.

Shocked at what she had just seen, and not really sure what she could do, Jane forced her gaze off the splintered glass shards now strewn on the ground next to Ethan and instead focused on his eyes again – _trying_ to make him look at her.

Then she saw something she hadn't noticed before. Ethan's eyes were red – and she was aware that it had to have been from tears – but it wasn't just his eyes. His entire forehead was flushed. He must have been sitting on the cold ground for hours, drinking to numb the pain – and was now running a fever from the combination of shock and too much liquor.

She had to get him off the floor. The only question was how.

She wasn't sure if calling Brandt up here was be the best solution, because for some reason, she could feel that Ethan wouldn't want any more people to see him like this. In the end, she decided to split the difference. She grabbed her cell phone from her jacket pocket and dialled Brandt's number.

"So, what's going on up there?" were Brandt's first words as soon as he came on the line. He clearly sounded curious, with a mixture of ever increasing boredom thrown in for good measure.

"I have found Ethan. We….need to handle this on our own, Brandt."

That made Brandt stop his casual stroll around the lobby.

"What's wrong?" he hesitantly asked after a beat, his worry now shining through clearly.

"We're gonna stay here for a while. Tell IMF that Ethan is gonna be off rotation until further notice. And I want you to get to the nearest pharmacy and pick up some sedatives, something that works safely with alcohol. I don't care how. Just bring it here. I'll stay with Ethan until then."

Jane's voice left no room for doubt. And Brandt – getting the feeling that Jane knew what she was doing – decided to follow her orders without any questions asked.

"Alright, I'm on my way out. Be back momentarily."

"Okay." Jane's reply was soft, before the connection was ended and Brandt looked up at the ceiling wondering, hoping that whatever was going on up there, that Jane and Ethan were okay.

Meanwhile, up in the suite, Jane had managed to get a hold of Ethan's non-resisting arm and – taking care to evade the shards on the ground – manoeuvred Ethan's upper body so that she could put her shoulder beneath his, in order to lever him off the ground. Despite his obvious intoxication, Ethan's feet seemed to still be working – though he clearly wasn't in control, or willing to move them on his own – but he was fortunately moving in whatever direction Jane was leading him.

Once she had lead him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, she carefully settled him down on the edge of the bed, making sure he was sitting more or less steadily before she reached out with one free arm to throw the bed-cover off to the side.

Slowly, so as not to scare him, she put a hand on Ethan's neck and another around his shoulder, making him slowly lean back and lie down on the bed.

He wasn't actively contributing in any way, still too numb to even register what was happening, just staring blankly at her. But she could see he was starting to shiver as the shock was beginning to win over his self-induced alcohol numbness. She wasn't a doctor, but she knew there was a danger of him coming down from it so hard that he might crash. That's why she had told Brandt to bring something to make Ethan sleep – really sleep – for a while.

Jane just knew – looking at Ethan and the lost expression on his face – that on his own, Ethan would not be sleeping for a long time. Maybe never again.

Just as she was considering calling Brandt again for an update on how long he would take, there was a knock on the door. She glanced at Ethan, making sure she could leave him for a moment to go out of the bedroom, and then she walked quickly to the door. As she opened it, Brandt stood outside the suite. In one hand his cell phone, and in the other – a see-through store bag containing what looked like some bottled water and medicine.

"Can I come in?" Brandt asked upon seeing her, obviously wanting to make sure that he was welcome.

"Yes. Yes, come in." Jane accepted his request, and let him follow her into the suite, although she stopped before entering to the bedroom. With a low voice, she turned to Brandt:

"I managed to get him into bed, but what he needs is to sleep." Jane began, and at Brandt's questioning glance, she added. "We can talk later, once he's asleep. Let's help him first."

Accepting this solution for now, Brandt nodded, and then followed Jane into the bedroom. Ethan hadn't moved. His eyes were still open, though clearly not seeing them, as he not even appeared to be aware of them entering the room.

When Brandt stepped inside the room, and saw their team leader, he couldn't help but wonder what on earth could have happened to make Ethan, the man who was famous for accomplishing the impossible as well as for his stubbornness, transform into this shell of a soul lying on the large bed like he was lost in it.

In his entire time as a member of Ethan's team, Brandt had only ever seen once a glimpse of Ethan's darkest fears – during that time in Seattle, when Ethan had told him that it was never his job to protect his wife, it was Ethan's – and he tried to think of what it could have taken to destroy Ethan like this.

He saw Jane unpack the syrupy medication and pour it into a glass, topping it off with some water from one of the bottles to make it more drinkable. Then he watched her sit down on the edge of the bed, right next to Ethan, and try to raise his head enough to allow him to drink the mix.

It was hard to watch Ethan not even react to her. But in the end, the instinctive response to swallow the water Jane was coaxing down his lips won out and Jane was satisfied to see that most of the liquid made it down Ethan's throat instead of running down the side of neck.

When he was done, she carefully helped him lie down again.

And after a few moments, during which both Jane and Brandt simply watched Ethan, making sure that the medication did its job – Ethan's eyes eventually began to close.

Finally, he was asleep.

Jane motioned for Brandt to step outside the room, and she softly closed the bedroom door behind them, as they both retreated to the main room.

And it was there that Jane's shoulders began to shake. After having been strong for as long as it took, she suddenly couldn't hold it in any longer. The fear for Ethan. The shock of seeing him down, so completely broken. The knowledge of what the IMF had sent him here to do. And how everything had, in one horrific moment of fate, gone so terribly wrong with this mission.

She suddenly felt Brandt's hands on her arms, pulling her into a slow embrace. He clearly had no idea what had just happened, but he was observant enough to understand that whatever it was, it had clearly shaken Jane to the core. And coupled with the still vividly ingrained image of Ethan's condition in the next room, Brandt had no doubt that whatever Jane was about to tell him, would make him want to wish he'd never asked.

"Jane….? What happened in there?" Brandt eventually asked as he let Jane out of the embrace, once he was sure that she was okay enough to sit down.

And as Jane's teary eyes focused on him, she told him. What she had seen on the laptop. And how she had found Ethan.

What had happened to Julia Hunt.

And from that moment on, Brandt knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

All they could do was help Ethan - if he let them. And if he didn't …Brandt had seen agents come apart in the field before. He feared for what Ethan might be capable of if he turned in that direction.

They had to be there for him. Now, more than ever.

-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-

**Author's Note /Updated:**_A big thank you to fox4mel for the kind review, I will think about continuing the story...yet I can't say when I get around to it. But I'll think about it, I promise._


	2. Chapter 2

**What a Tangled Web – Chapter 2**

**(a.k.a The First Taste of Rage)**

_Author's Note: A big Thank You to fox4mel for your kind review. Without it, I probably wouldn't have come back to this story. So, in a way, this is for you. One new chapter for now, but I think I'll see this through 'til the end … might take a while, though. _

-o-o-

There was silence. The silence of a morning that slowly turned to mid-day.

Except for a few drops of rain hitting the window outside every other minute, the only sign of life in the room was the regular breathing pattern of the man on the bed. But to say he was sleeping would have been like saying a grown of pain equalled that of pleasure.

The man on the bed was silent.

But in his dreams, he was screaming. Trying to run after a woman he could not see. Her face was obscured to him. But he knew he had to find her. He tried. He really tried. But in the end – she was gone, in a mist of rain, leaving him cold and drenched.

Cold and drenched…

…that was how he eventually woke up. Slowly, like from a dream he hadn't fully left behind.

At first, he didn't know where he was. He instantly felt it wasn't his apartment. Lying flat on his back, not raising his head, he slowly looked to his left, where he saw a chair with a change of clothes on it. Jeans and a shirt. His own. He had probably put it there.

Then, mirroring the action into the other direction, he turned his eyes to the right, where his gaze fell onto the night table beside the bed.

He saw a laptop. Closed, powered down. In a blissful moment of unawareness, he just looked at it. But as he saw it, something... _something_ seemed to start tickling the edge of his awareness.

And suddenly everything fell into place.

He remembered. He remembered the photo. The women. His wi-

'Oh god….'

The memories that hit him almost tore him apart.

A low, painful sound started deep in his throat. It seemed to be trying to break free of his very soul, his chest – needing to get out any way it could. It was a feeling like a thousand fists striking his body all at once, fire racing across his skin, and his heart beating so fast, it almost felt like it would break free. Cold sweat once again broke out on his entire body, and it made him tremble with shivers.

He tried to sit up, but his body wasn't ready – so he only managed to raise himself onto his left elbow, turning half to his side, his head down and touching the pillow beneath him.

He didn't move from that position for a while. He couldn't. It took everything in him just to stay silent, not to scream out loud - he hurt so much. For a moment he wasn't even sure why he didn't. Just scream, let the pain get out. But he was afraid. Afraid that if he let the pain out, he might lose the only thing that was keeping him together.

He needed the pain. Needed it to know he was still alive. And deep down, he could also feel a growing roar of anger slowly grip his insides, an anger at himself unlike any he had ever tasted.

He tried to focus on the pain. It was more useful than the anger, at least for the moment. So he used it. To raise himself up, onto his elbow, and further, forcing himself to move. Until he was sitting up enough to accidentally glance at the door that separated the bedroom from the main room.

And his eyes instantly focused. Hard. Cold.

He wasn't alone in the room.

Effectively blocking the door, there was Brandt sitting on a chair at the foot of Ethan's bed – watching his every move.

Brandt's eyes closely followed his reaction as Ethan seemed to take in the fact that someone had been watching over his sleep – and judging by Brandt's wrinkled suit and slouched posture – not just during the past few minutes, but for the entire night.

For a moment, the man on the bed seemed to cease all movement.

Then, wordlessly raising himself off the bed, Ethan slowly stood up. Brandt in turn didn't move. But he kept watching. Once Ethan was up, Brandt seemed to tense a little, but otherwise didn't speak up or interfere with anything Ethan was doing.

But it was clear why Brandt was there.

'Come on, Ethan, give me a sign... any sign at all that tells us how you are _really_ holding up,' Brandt thought.

What Brandt got instead was a short flicker of irritation – before Ethan's entire expression simply seemed to shut down. From one instant to the next, every sign of emotion was gone completely, like it had never existed in the first place.

Without acknowledging Brandt any further after that, and carefully not letting him see his eyes again at all, Ethan then moved from the bed towards the bathroom door.

For a moment it looked like Brandt was about to get up as well, in an instinctive reaction to get out of the chair and reach out to stop Ethan. But when Ethan's hand came to rest on the door handle, at first trembling slightly, Ethan suddenly stopped on his own, his eyes apparently taking in the fresh bandage on his left hand with new understanding - that let Brandt hesitate as well.

'He remembers what happened in there last night,' Brandt realized the instant Ethan's hand stilled.

And with that realization, Brandt also became acutely aware that he would have to tread very carefully now. If they wanted Ethan to trust them at all, they would have to trust him as well. If they cornered Ethan at this point, put too much pressure on him by taking away his right of self-determination, even in a simple situation like this, they would lose him even faster. They had to trust him. Trust him that he knew what he needed to keep functioning.

So, as Ethan finally turned the handle down, picking up the change of clothes from the other chair as he went, Brandt let him go. Only when he heard how Ethan audibly locked the door behind himself, Brandt's heart rate sped up noticably.

'Okay, Brandt…_trust_ him…,' Brandt murmured to himself just under his breath. And with that thought in mind he waited.

When Ethan eventually came out of the bathroom a long ten minutes later, it was a very nervous Brandt that looked up immediately as soon as Ethan stepped back into the room. Brandt began to breathe a little easier when he saw that there seemed to be no additional…injuries…on Ethan.

Ethan had changed his clothes. It admittedly made him look a little less vulnerable, though it was debatable how much that was worth. Looking a little less like the proverbial shadow of yourself didn't automatically make you look more alive – well, not much anyway.

And when Brandt managed to catch a look at Ethan's eyes, he knew Ethan may have changed his clothes, but the pain in the man who wore them was still there. Maybe better hidden. But definitely there.

The biggest surprise for Brandt, however, came when Ethan suddenly spoke up.

"What are you…doing here?" A slow, almost hesitant question. Cautious.

Devoid of any emotion.

Brandt had always associated Ethan Hunt's voice with strength. It was sharp when needed. Soft when appropriate. Comforting when he wanted it to be.

But this voice…it didn't carry any of it. No interest. No feeling.

And then Brandt realized why.

Ethan hadn't asked the question because he wanted an answer. He'd asked because he knew Brandt expected him to ask it. If someone wanted conversation – give it to him. The first step of diversion. It was distraction 101, learnt by IMF agents in their first week of training. Brandt knew it. Ethan knew it.

It made Brandt wonder just how much of the Ethan they all knew was actually standing before him now. Or what this man before him was _really_ thinking.

'He's not letting on anything about himself,' Brandt thought, 'he's simply letting you see what he knows you want to see.'

Okay.

If that was what it took to keep Ethan in his comfort zone for now, Brandt was willing to go along. For now.

Watching Ethan slowly begin to pack a small bag – some papers, his phone and some other things Brandt could not fully see – Brandt began to give him a carefully condensed report of how Jane and he had been sent by the IMF to pick him up. He told him how they had found him. That Jane had given him something to help him sleep. But he deliberately left out the part where they had watched him toss and turn all night in the grip of several nightmares. There was no need for Ethan to remember that.

At hearing Jane's name, Ethan seemed to hesitate for the fraction of a second - like he actually remembered glimpses of her trying to soothingly speak to him to talk him down, help him sleep on - but then he quickly covered his reaction by grabbing his shades from the table beside the window.

During all this, Ethan didn't look at Brandt once. He appeared to be simply absorbing the information given to him. And while Brandt wasn't sure how much of it Ethan was actually finding useful, it was clear that at least some of it had to be having an effect on Ethan. If only because, in an unguarded moment while Ethan was packing, Brandt caught a glimpse of Ethan's hand, the one not covered by the bandage – and he'd seen that it was clenched so hard Ethan's knuckles were white.

When Ethan noticed Brandt's glance, he slowly forced his hand to relax.

Then, with a carefully non-committal voice, Ethan spoke up again:

"If you don't mind, I wanna go for a walk – alone."

'Bullshit,' was Brandt's first reaction, one that he fortunately didn't voice out loud.

But as he looked at Ethan, he knew this was it. Ethan was testing where they stood. And whatever answer he gave now, he had no doubt it would affect Ethan's decision on whether to come back at all, on his own when he was ready, or if he would leave, now, by force if necessary, and never let them near again.

Ethan was still looking at him. The obvious question still in his eyes.

'Do you mind….'

Oh, Brandt minded. Minded a lot, actually.

But Brandt also understood he couldn't stop Ethan. Not physically. Not for the sake of his sanity. Not at the cost of Ethan's trust.

So in the end, Brandt wordless stepped aside, clearing the direct path to the bedroom door, letting Ethan pass without holding him back.

As soon as the bedroom door was opened, Brandt could see Jane just coming back into the main room from a phone call, clearly shocked at seeing Ethan walking out of the bedroom. When she threw Brand a frantic 'what is going on?' glance, he quickly let his eyes tell her to stand down, and let Ethan pass.

So, albeit hesitantly, she did.

Ethan didn't even look at her as he passed her.

Once he was out the door, leaving them both alone in the suite, Jane immediately came over to where Brand was still standing just inside the bedroom door. Reading the question in her eyes, he simply nodded, letting her see the worry in his eyes as he confirmed her fear:

"He's not coping."

And when Jane saw that Ethan's laptop was also missing from the bedroom, Brand added with a grave voice:

"And I think this is just the beginning…"

-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-

_P.S. Feedback is always appreciated. ;)_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**a.k.a. In Friends We Trust**

-o-o-

For a moment Jane actually considered following Ethan. Just go after him and make sure they could at least keep an eye on him. Unobserved, of course.

Then Jane saw Brandt's minute shake of head. And she realized he was right.

You _didn't_ follow Ethan Hunt unobserved.

He might let you shadow him, if he wanted you to. If not, he would simply vanish.

Like a snowflake on a summer day. And you wouldn't spot a sign of him again, until he was ready for you. The man had eyes in the back of his head, coupled with a sixth sense of spotting subterfuge in a way that was almost scary.

Add to that Ethan's current wish to be left alone, and Jane came to the irrefutable conclusion that even an entire squad of the best IMF trackers would not be able to round him up under the circumstances - even if they sealed off the entire city.

They couldn't follow him. They could only prepare for when he would come back.

It was time to make some calls.

-o-o-

When Ethan did come back several hours later, they first breathed a sigh of relief. For one reason, this was because Ethan had returned. The other reason was one that Jane and Brandt were carefully keeping to themselves for now – but Brandt had gotten confirmation just a few minutes ago, that the calls he'd made had not been made in vain. Now it all came down to a matter of timing.

As Ethan stepped into the suite, he still looked like a man who hadn't slept at all – but there was also a new air of determination around him. And something else. Something... alarming.

Without looking at them, Ethan walked past them, barely stopping to drop his duffel bag with the laptop in it onto the table beside the door, before he marched straight on into the bedroom. He left the door open behind himself, obviously not caring if they saw him or saw what he was doing.

When he started going through the drawers and closets, grabbing more and more things from the bedroom, including the tuxedo Jane had carefully put away last night, Jane suddenly had a very bad feeling.

And seeing how Ethan seemed to be moving almost on autopilot, she couldn't help but ask concerned:

"Ethan...what are you doing?"

No answer.

So Brandt stepped forward as well, backing Jane up:

"Ethan?"

Brandt's move forward – which put him in a direct path of the only exit from the bedroom – was what finally made Ethan acknowledge their presence in the room. But Brandt suddenly wasn't so sure anymore, whether that was such a good thing.

Ethan's eyes slowly looked up, and he locked his gaze on Brandt.

"Don't."

There was a clear warning in that one word. A warning that became even more dangerous when Ethan added in a low, carefully controlled voice:

"_Don't_ ... stand in my way."

Brandt had seen death in the eye several times in his life. But never had he actually been afraid – until this moment.

While it still wasn't enough to make Brandt stand down, he did take that one step back from Ethan – carefully, just in case. Incidentally, this move put Brandt now directly in the doorframe of the bedroom door. Which meant that aside from blocking Ethan's path, he was now also effectively blocking Ethan's view of the main room behind Brandt. Not that Ethan was even trying to look past Brandt. His eyes were fixed entirely on the former chief analyst.

Jane, in an attempt to diffuse the situation, slowly moved towards the far side of the bed in a wide circle around Ethan, coming to a halt near the bedroom window.

"Ethan?" she hoped to reason with him by asking again, softly pleading, "What _are_ you doing?"

Seeing that he was not getting rid of them, Ethan's eyes eventually flickered to Jane for a moment, before he answered almost dismissively:

"Preparing for a mission, what does it look like to you?" he asked conservatively, while he continued packing.

"What?" Jane exclaimed in shock. Brandt's mouth also fell open, but Jane beat him to his next words:

"You're _not_ going through with this mission, are you?" Jane asked in complete bewilderment.

"Ethan you shouldn't…you _can't_…," Brandt now spoke up as well.

But Ethan stopped both of them cold.

"Don't waste your breath. I have already contacted IMF," he held up his phone for them to see, "and the current Secretary of Operations, _your boss_, says _I_ _can_."

Then Ethan raised his gaze once more back to Jane, including her in what were clearly the last words he intended to say to them: "You two, however, may leave. And when you see the Secretary, tell him I said hi."

And with that statement, Ethan turned his back on both of them, as he packed up the last of his things from the bed.

For a moment, Brandt was too shocked for words. So was Jane. How could the Secretary accept Ethan's continued participation in this mission? How could anyone even consider not pulling the man out immediately, knowing what Ethan had to be going through? Then Brandt realized the answer his own question: The new Secretary probably had _no_ idea.

After the whole fiasco during the Phantom Incident, and the death of their long-time Secretary – a close friend who had actually _known_ Ethan – the new head of IMF operations was a career opportunist, and had only been in office for about two months. Nowhere near enough time to get to know every agent's personal traits and specialties, let alone their Achilles heels other than what was in their files. And Ethan had made sure that Julia's true relation to him had been carefully edited out of all his files after Croatia.

So Ethan had called the Secretary. Probably played down his relation to Julia as a casual love interest. Then used the Secretary's inexperience to convince the man that the mission was not compromised at all. And that Ethan was still the perfect man to complete it.

'And considering this is Ethan we are talking about,' Brandt realized, 'the Secretary probably swallowed the whole bag of lies like ice-cream on a sunny day."

In the end, the result was as simple as it was shocking: IMF had green-lighted Ethan again.

But that didn't mean Brandt or Jane had to take that decision without a fight. Which became clear when Brandt slowly straightened up and stared at Ethan's back with a calm, but determined voice:

"Well, your not the only one who can make calls, Ethan."

Ethan froze. Suddenly dangerously still. His back still turned on Brandt.

And in the abrupt silence, they could all hear the slight noise of a soft '_click'_ coming from the direction of the main room.

It had sounded like the door of the suite – and when Brandt's eyes flickered from Jane back to Ethan, he could practically see the moment Ethan's entire body language changed from growing irritation to something far more unpredictable.

As Ethan slowly turned around, his voice was an ice-cold whisper:

"What have you _done_, Brandt...?"

-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

-o-

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**a.k.a Enemy Mine**

As soon as Brandt stepped aside to let Ethan see past him, Ethan's breathing pattern changed noticeably. From where she stood, Jane could also see the muscles in Ethan's jaw line clench so hard it had to hurt. But Ethan didn't even take notice of anything beside the sight that presented itself before him.

Someone _had_ entered the main room.

On the sofa right across from the bedroom, there sat Benji. He'd just dropped numerous unpacked bags beside himself on the floor. This time, however, Benji couldn't be accused of being a packrat. Because not all of the bags belonged to Benji.

Standing with his shoulder leaning casually against the wall beside the window... was Luthor Stickell.

Luthor's arms were comfortably crossed over his chest and the only thing about him that was moving at all was his eyes – he was clearly taking in Ethan's reaction.

For the briefest of moments, a hint of confusion seemed to flicker in Ethan's eyes, maybe even an admission of surprise at seeing his old friend again. But then, almost instantly, the look of irritation on Ethan's face turned darker, so much so that even Benji began to look decidedly nervous on his sofa, despite the fact that Ethan wasn't even looking at him anymore.

With angry, measured steps, Ethan pushed past Brandt.

Brandt, who had until that moment stayed silent to give Ethan some room, took one quick glance at Luthor – who in turn nodded – and then called after Ethan:

"You got a choice, Ethan."

Brandt's call made Ethan come to a halt, just as he was about to cross the centre of the main room. But Ethan didn't turn around to face Brandt. Ethan's eyes never even wavered from Luthor. Instead, he seemed to be closely assessing Luthor's outwardly relaxed, yet very _present_ form in the room.

'And with good reason,' Brandt thought. There was no mistaking that Ethan knew who was a threat, and who was merely a minor annoyance. Luthor clearly fell into the first category. Which was one of the reasons Brandt had wanted him here.

"Here is the deal, Ethan," Brandt called out from where he had remained near the bedroom door, and there was a hint of an apology in his words as he addressed Ethan:

"We wanted to give you the space you need, to let you handle this your way. You could have walked away from this, or we could have taken you home. And you know we would have respected any decision you would have made."

Jane now stepped up behind Ethan as well, closing ranks with Brandt, who then continued:

"But now you're talking about a mission…. A _mission_, Ethan!" Brandt said, his words almost bordering on desperation.

And as Benji watched the whole thing from his front row seat on the couch, he noticed that while Brandt and Jane had come to a stand behind Ethan, Luthor was now casually righting himself from his posture against the wall, as well.

"You may have convinced IMF, but we all know that this is one mission you shouldn't even be on." Brandt looked for a reaction from Ethan, any reaction at all, but when there was none, he had no choice but to continue, "So you wanna go out there? Then we either go with you, or you don't go at all. It's your choice."

The silence that followed was tense.

After several long moments, Ethan eventually spoke up.

"I don't think so."

His eyes were still locked on Luthor, but he was clearly talking to Brandt.

Then, without taking his eyes off Luthor, but making it a point not to move in any hurry, Ethan began to turn slightly left and head for the door, which was about ten feet away from him. He had gotten about three steps forward, and was clearly intent on leaning down next to pick up the small bag with the laptop he had dropped there earlier. But just as a he was about to reach down, something made him halt.

It was Jane.

When Ethan slowly looked up at her, he saw that she had cautiously moved ahead of him on his far left - a move that was now being mirrored by Luthor on Ethan's right. They were flanking him.

Having formed something of a loose circle around Ethan, one that Ethan was clearly aware of by now, Brandt had one last message he needed Ethan to understand:

"We can't just let you walk out there, Ethan."

As he listened to Brandt's words, Ethan's eyes continued to rest on Jane, showing something that almost looked like disappointment. He realized they would not let him leave.

"I'm sorry, Ethan," Jane added her own apology, the sorrow clear in her words.

Luthor had by now come to a halt about three feet to Ethan's right, his impressive stature also sending out a message he didn't even have to put in words.

"Yeah,.." Ethan slowly nodded, before his eyes closed, "… me, too."

And with that Ethan suddenly moved.

Making a run for the door, he passed within inches by Luthor's reach, while kicking an elbow back and to his left at Jane's hand. But as he blocked Jane's attempt to reach for him, Ethan instantly felt Brandt's hand come down on his shoulder from behind. Twisting in a half-bow, Ethan managed to catch the former chief analyst by surprise, instantly following through with a well-placed kick backwards against Brandt's knee to give himself some breathing room. But then a sharp blow from his right side – Luthor! – caught Ethan hard in the ribs and made him stumble for a moment.

Using the moment of imbalance in Ethan's standing, Jane was just fast enough to get a hold of Ethan's upper arm and turn him around slightly, but it was enough to give Luthor the time to step in and throw another fist into Ethan's stomach. For a moment, it made Ethan catch his breath in a double gasp. But right before their eyes, he instantly seemed to shake off the effects of the hit, as he reared up again, upper-cutting Luthor, and nearly shaking off Jane's hold on him all together.

Jane felt her fingers slip from Ethan's wrist, already fearing she would lose her grip completely, when suddenly Brandt's fist caught Ethan in the solar plexus, taking the wind out of his lungs long enough for Brandt to follow through with yet another, second blow. Ethan almost lost his footing, clearly struggling to avoid falling over backwards. Immediately, Luthor added his strength to mirror Brandt's intent and they wrapped their arms around Ethan shoulders to take him down, until his back actually touched the ground. It was their only chance. They had to get him on the floor.

But pinning Ethan to the floor wasn't something that was easily achievable - particularly when the man they were struggling with was clearly angry as hell and still fighting with all his strength to get up. Twice, Brandt almost lost his hold, but fortunately both times that Brandt slipped, Luthor was able to keep pushing Ethan's other shoulder to the floor, adding nearly all his physical strength as well as his sheer weight to keep Ethan down. Jane, in turn, was doing her best to get a hold of Ethan's hands, so he would not be able to strike out at a moment of opportunity.

When it appeared that they finally had a good enough hold on Ethan that he wouldn't throw them off again within the next second or so, Benji, who had wisely stayed out of the fight – knowing it was just a _tad_ outside his own physical skills to go against someone like Ethan Hunt and be of help - slowly came over as well. When Benji saw their team leader on the ground, held tightly between Brandt, Luthor and Jane, he was glad he had not interfered – this clearly hadn't been a training fight.

Luthor was sweating and breathing heavily. Brandt was sporting a grimace every time he moved his knee. And Jane's nose was bleeding. But it was nothing compared to the look of pure anger on Ethan's face.

Ethan was seething. As long as they could remember, none of them had ever seen Ethan this angry.

"You're gonna stop running now, Ethan?" Luthor finally asked down sharply, hoping to get through to his is old friend.

It took a while, until Ethan finally stopped moving. They weren't sure the fight had entirely left him yet, but apparently, some voice of reason within him was slowly catching up with the idea that he was effectively stuck. He clearly was not happy, though. But in the end, he slowly nodded; his mind apparently finally winning over his body's instinct to run.

At first, they hesitate to actually relax their grip, but seeing that they were starting to cut off his blood circulation in his arms, they eventually had to ease off just a little – carefully.

But they were not letting him up just yet.

"Okay, Ethan…here is the deal," Brandt eventually said, when he saw Ethan's breathing finally slow down a bit, "We know you contacted IMF and somehow managed to talk them into green-lighting this mission again, but we _will. not_. _let_ you go alone."

His words were emphasised by his grip on Ethan's arm tightening with the last words in particular. Hoping to push some sense into Ethan.

"I called Benji and Luthor to help us. To you help _you_. Since we can't keep you out of this mission, we can at least have your back so you don't get killed out there! Now, I know that Benji has already checked out some information that will get you back into the circle. From what I gathered, there is another party going down tonight. And we are willing to let you go there, with us as backup. But you gotta work with us here. Do you understand that, Ethan?"

Ethan stilled at that.

Then, with an almost imperceptible nod of his head after several long seconds, he slowly agreed.

When they eventually let him up, still keeping a very close eye on every one of his moves, they were almost convinced that he was speaking the truth.

At the very least, they were confident that Ethan had apparently accepted their participation. He had to have realized that with their help – he would get to his goal faster.

Now they only had to make sure that their goal and Ethan's goal remained one and the same: To find the man responsible for kidnapping and killing all those women. Track him down. Arrest him. And make him rot in jail.

But, as Brandt watched Ethan slowly retreat back into the bedroom - this time closing the door after himself firmly - the former analyst got the feeling that no matter how much Ethan had conceded, in the end there would come that one point in their plan, where Ethan _might_ have a slightly different agenda.

It concerned the part where the man who kidnapped all these women would make it to jail. From what Brandt could see, Ethan had not yet conceded that the man would actually make it to jail _alive_.

'We really have our work cut out for us', Brandt mused worriedly, as he joined Benji, Luthor and Jane at the main room table so they could get this mission prepped.

'Oh yeah, this is gonna be a long day…' Brandt sighed.

-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-

_To be continued … and then we'll find out just how well Ethan will manage to keep himself together undercover out in the field, shall we? ;)_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**a.k.a. I love it when a plan…**

Say what you want about technology-interested people – but when you put Benji in front of a computer, there was nothing the man couldn't do. Add to that Luthor Stickell, and between the two of them you could have probably hacked the entire world, with a side shopping trip to Fort Knox for dessert.

An hour later, they knew all they needed to know to set up the mission anew. Now all that was left to add to the plan was one last, but very dicey detail:

Ethan Hunt.

Brandt risked one worried look at the still firmly closed bedroom door.

Jane saw his glance. And she had to suppress a 'see, now you are doing it, too' glare.

For the past hour, Jane herself had kept glancing towards that door, wondering what Ethan was doing in there. Was he climbing out of the window while they weren't looking? Sure, this was the 43rd floor, but when you considered that this was Ethan Hunt – the same guy who once happily scaled the highest building in the world with nothing but a pair of sticky gloves – then the 43 stories of this hotel should be a joke to him.

Brandt, however, had kept assuring her, that he had actually checked the window himself earlier in the day, and had determined without a doubt that the windows in the bedroom did not open. Permanently. Not that this would stop Ethan if he really tried – but at least they would have heard the breaking of the window glass. And so far, they hadn't.

_What_ the man was doing in the bedroom, however, nobody knew.

Benji was meanwhile giving everyone the final rundown:

Their target's name was Antonio Larson - macho millionaire extraordinaire, who had earned most of his money the illegal way. Not that anybody had ever been able to prove it, though. His right hand was a guy named Julio. Julio Jardo. That one would be a bit of mystery bag, because all they had been able to find out about him had been that he was once a Special Forces operative. Probably upgraded to the private sector for the money. Being the second in command as well as personal bodyguard to Antonio Larson had to pay really well, they assumed.

There was to be another party going down tonight. Their target was likely to attend, mainly because he was also the one who had provided the location, a hellishly expensive country club just outside of town. They didn't know if any of the kidnapped women were being held anywhere near it, but considering that Larson owned several properties in that area, they couldn't rule it out. Once they made contact, they would have to be flexible.

'Speaking of flexible…' Brandt sighed.

"Ethan?" Brandt called out, waiting for a reaction from the bedroom. For a moment Brandt felt a touch of apprehension, just enough that he actually began to wonder how stupid he would feel if Ethan had managed to give them the slip after all. But then the door opened, and Ethan stepped out. From the way he looked, they instantly gathered that he obviously hadn't been resting. But the raise of Ethan's eyebrow told them he was at least ready to listen.

Okay then.

"Our target will be holding another private party tonight at 6pm. Invited guests only, but Benji was so kind as to put us on the guest list," Brandt explained, before Jane took over:

"You and Brandt will go in together as two rich brothers, who happen to be looking for some 'merchandise' to staff their new private country ranch up in Colorado. Benji and Luthor will take care of our communications outside in the van, while I stay as backup close by. If you find Larson, you will make contact, try to set up a buy – and if he invites you to take a look at the women, you go with him to check them out. We will follow you, and as soon as you give the signal, we will arrest him."

Jane was watching Ethan as she spoke, waiting for him to either interrupt her or show any other kind of reaction.

But it looked like he had cooled off enough in that room to think about this a little more rationally. Well, that, or he was indeed one hell of a poker player. As far as his only reaction went, Ethan simply nodded, showing them that he had heard Jane's outline of the plan, and that he apparently accepted it the way she had explained it.

'Yeah, and he'll probably even stick to it, as long as it overlaps with his own plan,' Brandt figured.

Well, that was why Brandt was coming along. And he intended not to leave Ethan out of his sight for one damn second.

"Okay then, is everybody clear on the plan?" Luthor spoke up at last, and he happened to be looking right at Ethan as he said it. For a long moment, Ethan held his gaze, fully aware that out of anyone in the room, Luthor was probably the one who had the highest chance of actually looking through Ethan's façade.

But all that Luthor could see now was a tightly constructed mask of determination. Whatever Ethan was really thinking, he was keeping it closed off even from Luthor. So after another moment of hesitation, Luthor had no chance but to give Brandt a hesitant nod, hoping they were not making a mistake that would cost any of them their lives.

"Alright, then let's get the cars." Brandt concluded the meeting, folding up the paper he had been holding in his hand, and grabbing his phone to make some more calls - he was in need of a tuxedo.

-o-

The two Maseratis gracefully took to the curves around the countryside just outside of town. Inside the first car, there were two handsome-looking guys in tuxedos, outwardly the picture of relaxation and obviously out for a good time. If Jane hadn't known better, she would have thought she was following two single guys on their way to a bachelor party. But she knew better.

Once they neared the Salano Country Club, the two cars split up, the first car heading for the guard house at the entrance of the club, while the second one inconspicuously took another road that lead to an adjacent location. Jane would stay close-by as backup to play another party guest if necessary. Other than that, she would simply stay ready to tail them if they got on the move again.

Benji and Luthor, for their part, had already set up the van hours ago on a nearby hill, nicely covered by trees and enough shrubbery to hide them from view perfectly. They were ready as well, all surveillance set up and broadcasting.

When the two men in the first car approached the guards at the gate of the club, they were both wearing relaxed smiles – which were as fake as a three dollar bill. Not that the guards noticed. They only cared for the names on their clipboard. And the list checked out. Within minutes, Ethan and Brandt were inside and on their way to the main house.

They were both wearing earwigs, connecting them with the van and with Jane, who were all listening in to anything from the outside.

"Alright, Ethan, turn a right on the next corner. There will be another guard taking your invitations, and he'll also take care of your car. Then it's all downhill from there." Benji's voice crackled supportingly in their earpieces.

"Understood," Ethan replied, now all business. For a second, Brandt almost felt like they were simply on another mission, because from the expression on Ethan's face you could have sworn that there was not a memory left of what had happened in the past 24 hours.

But it had happened. And they were about to come face to face with the man who was responsible for the death of Ethan's wife.

That thought alone made Brandt's heart beat faster, as he reminded himself that this was anything _but_ a normal mission.

"Let's go," Ethan called out to Brandt, while smoothly sliding out of the driver's seat of the car, and leaving it to the approaching guard to take care of their invitations and their car as soon as they were out. A minute later, they were inside the club, strolling side by side confidently down the aisle down into the main ballroom.

Two handsome men on the search for entertainment.

Scanning the room, it didn't take long for them to spot a cluster of people in the back of the room that was clearly more VIP than the rest of the folks. There were several guards scattered around the group, guarding what appeared to be more private area within the room.

One of the guys inside the perimeter Brandt could identify as Julio. He was chatting with what appeared to be several business men. But no matter how hard Brandt looked, Julio's boss Antonio was nowhere to be seen for now

'Well, time to mingle…' Brandt concluded, and with a confirming glance from Ethan, who had clearly arrived at the same conclusion, they began to move across the room, making their way towards their target area.

Smooth talking with some of the guests in the room soon got them inside the private circle.

But it was audacity that got them the attention of the man they wanted to impress.

About twenty minutes after they had entered the room, they could see Julio Jardo making his way over to them. He had obviously gotten wind of the two rich brothers in the room, who were openly dropping hints about being on the lookout for some female company of the more permanent kind. And considering that they looked loaded enough to be able to cough up a respectable sum of money, Julio had obviously decided he wanted to talk to them, a little more privately.

Which was why, not ten minutes later, Ethan and Brandt found themselves in another secluded area of the country club, being asked by Julio to please wait here for a moment, while he excused himself to bring them some drinks from the private bar in the next room.

They were fine with that.

While Julio was next-door, they took the time to glance around their new surroundings. They were now on the ground floor in the back of the main building, where the building opened up with a nice veranda, looking out over the adjacent golf course behind the club. Through the large wall-to-wall glass windows they could see all the way across the vast green behind the house, which included several beautiful lakes in the distance.

And that's when Brandt spotted him.

Antonio Larson.

He was outside, about a hundred meters away, lounging in a pool area just off the side of the main building.

Since Brandt had by pure chance spotted Larson before Ethan did, it gave Brandt about a second's warning and just enough time for him to turn to Ethan, and take in the reaction on his friend's face the moment Ethan noticed Larson.

The temperature in the room instantly changed. Or maybe it was just the way it suddenly felt entirely too hot in the room for Brandt. Worriedly he watched Ethan's eyes instantly focus on Larson in the distance.

"Easy..." Brandt imperceptibly whispered to Ethan, hoping to get him to focus back on the inside of this room, and on the fact that they had to deal with Julio for now.

A flicker of something intangible seemed to flare up in Ethan's eyes, but before Brandt could even try to discern what it meant, Ethan's expression went carefully blank again, just as Julio came back into the room.

"So, I hear you are looking for some ladies, huh?" Julio jovially opened the conversation as he handed them their drinks.

"Yeah, you heard right about that," Brandt took the first step forward, taking the initiative to give Ethan an extra moment to get his mind back on the game.

He needn't have bothered. Ethan was right there, already throwing out their carefully woven net of lies. With a smile that looked like it was the easiest thing in the world to him, Ethan spoke up:

"Yeah, we kinda 'lost' our last ones, some really unfortunate accident, you know."

Brandt almost stopped breathing.

Sure, Ethan was doing exactly what they had planned, hinting at their cover story that they themselves might not be above taking the lives of unruly female company if said company didn't behave accordingly.

But the way Ethan had said those words sent a shiver of fear down Brandt's spine.

Julio, for his part, merely smiled appreciatively as he listened to Ethan's words.

'Ethan's playing with him,' Brandt realized frantically.

Unlike Julio, Brandt had understood the double-edged undercurrent in Ethan's voice, and the careful intonation of the word 'lost' that had almost sounded like a challenge. As if Ethan was daring Julio to ask him, exactly how Ethan had managed to 'lose' his latest female company.

'Oh no, you really don't want to do that, Julio', Brandt thought to himself, as he noticed the almost predatory gleam in Ethan's eyes. And he realized just how thin the thread was that was keeping Ethan from snapping, right here, right now.

"So, you got any new ones available?" Brandt coughed cautiously, covering his nervousness with this direct question at Julio.

"Maybe," Julio answered, refocusing on Brandt, and then, to Brandt's surprise, Julio slowly glanced over Brandt's shoulder, right past them and out onto the lawn.

Where Antonio Larson was now approaching the house.

"Why don't we talk about this with my boss, I'm sure he'll be able to find exactly what you are looking for to accommodate your needs," Julio addressed the both of them again, once his eyes had focused back inside the room.

And before any of them could say anything else, they heard the sound of one of the large glass doors opening behind them, as Antonio Larson stepped into the room.

"Good evening, Gentlemen…."

-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-

_To be continued… that is, if you want to know Ethan's reaction when he comes face to face with the man responsible for killing his wife. Feedback will help. ;)_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**a.k.a. Aim To Kill**

"_Good Evening, Gentlemen…"_

The voice was silken. Like the smoothest thing Brandt had ever heard. It reminded him of a cat. One that kept its claws locked away in public, but would slaughter you nine ways to Sunday in the darkness of a filthy alley.

Brandt had a feeling that he probably would not have liked the guy very much, even if he hadn't known what the man was responsible for. But since Brandt did know… well, he couldn't help but be silently proud of Ethan. There was not a sign of animosity in Ethan's posture as he took in Larson's face. In fact, you could have thought there wasn't a care in Ethan's world, when he spoke up to address Larson.

"Mister Larson, it's really a pleasure to meet you after all. I've been hoping we'd get in touch with you."

Ethan's words were spoken with the same silk-like quality as Larson's.

'Two dangerous cats in broad daylight,' Brandt realized.

Okay, better to wrap this up before it got dark, in more ways than one. Or before these two accidentally found themselves an alley somewhere – Brandt wasn't sure he had brought enough ammo to keep these two apart if they did.

But for now, everything remained peaceful as Julio introduced them.

"Mister Larson, these two gentlemen are looking for some company that I have a feeling we might be able to procure." Julio turned to his boss by way of explanation, before gesturing at the small bag Brandt was carrying.

"I was thinking, Sir, considering these men's references, and the fact that they are prepared to pay cash, we should perhaps talk to them about finding them some merchandise they can take home with them when they return to Colorado tomorrow," Julio elaborated on his preliminary assessment about the two customers.

Larson listened to Julio's words attentively, carefully watching both Brandt and Ethan while his right hand spoke. Obviously not one to trust strangers easily, but not finding anything suspicious about these two men before him, Larson eventually nodded slowly, and a small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

"And you thought I might be the right person to help you with this little problem, huh?" Larson chuckled like an oily salesman. At that point, Julio slowly pulled back into the background a little, letting his boss take over the negotiations. As he watched, Ethan stepped forward to address Larson.

"Yes, that's why we came here," Ethan began in a light conversational tone, but then he appeared to be thinking about something really hard, before he added almost casually, "But we might be mistaken, if those rumours we've heard just the other day are true." Ethan suddenly sounded very much like a business man himself, like someone who had checked the market situation thoroughly beforehand and wouldn't settle for the second-best deal.

Larson's smile froze.

"What…rumours?"

"Well," Ethan began to take a few casual steps around the room, like he was just taking in the architecture, "there are some people who say that just the other night you had a shipment go bad, and that you no longer actually _have_ any merchandize to speak of," and with that Ethan turned around to Larson again, "…. no offence, of course." Ethan looked Larson right in the eye, clearly offering the man a challenge.

'He wants to hear him say it….. Jesus- Ethan wants Larson to admit he had those women killed!' Brandt realized in shock.

Larson, however, wasn't one to play minor-league like that with a new customer. He had been in the business long enough to know what to talk about and what not to phrase in a way that could be used against him later on. But he also hadn't become who he was by letting other people spread rumours about him. Particularly rumours that implicated he couldn't deliver what he was selling. So, after a moment's hesitation, he took the challenge by clearing his throat merely lightly annoyed:

"I think I understand what you're asking. Unfortunately I am not in the habit of discussing my delivery system with strangers, as you may understand. But, let me put it this way…are you gonna trust _vermins _out there who spread rumours? Or do you want to make business with _me_ – business that, I can assure you gentlemen, I am very much in charge of." Larson nailed Ethan with a look that made Brandt wonder how Ethan could stay calm.

'God, please Ethan, keep it together….' Brandt prayed.

But Ethan simply returned the stare Larson was fixing him with by smirking non-committally. When Larson saw that his customer wasn't backing down, nor appeared to be someone who was afraid of him, Larson realized that he was gonna have to arrive at a compromise, if he wanted to make the deal. And he wanted this deal. He wanted to show these two jokers that he was the best in the business. So, in the end it was Larson who conceded:

"But, in the interest of business, I may be willing to give you a little extra-assurance before we finish our deal." Larson's eyes were still on Ethan, but eventually included Brandt as well, looking to see if the two brothers would accept that compromise. As Ethan raised an eyebrow in a gesture of 'go on', Larson went on: "If you like, we can take a short drive some place where you can take a look at the merchandize right now, to make you feel better, if that's what you wish."

'Larson, you have no idea what Ethan really wishes…,' Brandt thought as he took in the carefully orchestrated stance of the two men before him. But outwardly, Brandt simply nodded towards the both of them with a light-heartedness he wasn't sure he felt:

"That would indeed be an acceptable compromise, I would say. In fact, I would appreciate that opportunity very much." Brandt smiled happily, hoping to smooth out the tension in the room even further.

As Larson looked back at Ethan, Ethan in turn nodded as well:

"Yes, I think we can live with that compromise. We'll talk about money later, once we have seen that you have what we want. That way we'll all know where we stand, wouldn't you agree?" Ethan held out his hand, waiting for Larson to accept it.

And accept it Larson did.

He would never know how much it took for Ethan not to break his wrist right then and there.

As it was, Larson remained completely clueless about the two men before him, when he concluded the meeting by saying:

"Alright Gentlemen, let's see if we can make you happy."

But as Brandt happened to catch Ethan's eyes on the way outside, he felt an instant shiver run through him as he realized Ethan's look seemed to be saying:

'Yeah, let's see if we can...'

-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-

_To be continued…and does anyone else get the feeling that this is where Ethan's plan starts to divert from the one Brandt and the team had in mind? *lol*_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**The Road To Hell Is Paved…**

As they all walked outside and down a long set of steps that would lead them downhill to another private road behind the house, Brandt expected to see their car waiting for them at the end of the steps. What he did spot, however, were two limousines. He must have frowned at that, because almost instantly he could hear Jane's apologizing voice come over the little clip in his ear.

"I guess we needn't have fitted that Maserati with the tracking device, after all."

Brandt had to physically stop himself from grunting out a hearty 'no shit'.

Only moments later, while they were still following their host down the steps towards the first car, Brandt's earwig came to life again, this time with Luthor's voice:

"Don't worry, we'll follow you via satellite, and Jane will be on your heels, as well. Just make sure you keep Larson happy so he'll take you directly to the women," Luthor's voice informed him confidently, managing to calm Brandt's nerves just a little.

'Alright, so we go in-style in a limousine, never mind the second limo that is probably full of guards.' Brandt tried to placate himself, doing his best to find some sort of acceptance about this new situation.

His acceptance, however, died an instant death, when Brandt realized what Julio was saying next:

"Gentlemen, for safety precautions, that I'm sure you will understand, I'm afraid I will have to ask you to split up and each take a seat in one of our cars. We allow no more than one 'guest' per car."

Brandt saw Ethan's shoulders straighten just a tad at Julio's statement.

But before Brandt could think about Ethan's reaction any further, Julio was already gesturing invitingly in the direction of the open doors at the end of the stairs, where two burly bodyguards were just stepping out of each car, waiting respectively for one of them to join them on each backseat.

"We'll take you to our storage area, where you can check out the merchandize together. But until then, you'll be riding separately." Larson added with an apologizing gesture of his hand, but one that he clearly expected to be followed.

Brandt knew that Jane as well as Benji and Luthor were listening in – and they had to have realized by now what this arrangement would mean for their plan to keep an eye on Ethan at all times.

Larson obviously considered this two car arrangement a plus for his safety, never even realizing that quite the opposite was the case.

But Brandt had no doubt that if Ethan got in the car with Larson, one burly guard in the car wouldn't stop Ethan if it came down to it – hell, it probably wouldn't even slow him down.

Brandt realized his only chance was to keep Ethan and Larson apart until they would reach the storage area. So, as Julio bade them to step forward, Brandt tried his best to position himself so that he would be the one to join Larson in the first car.

He might as well have tried to carry water with a sieve.

Right before the last step off the stairs, almost imperceptibly, Brandt felt Ethan take just one additional step forward, and before he could react, Brandt also felt Ethan's vice-like grip on his arm, hidden to everyone else.

As Ethan forced Brandt to hold his last step for the fracture of a second, Brandt tried to shake off the hold without drawing anyone else's attention, but in the end – just as Ethan had probably known it would – the risk of being noticed by their hosts was just too big. So Brandt reluctantly gave in to the pain in his arm, and let Ethan step onto the landing first.

Which meant that Ethan became the one to be ushered to the first car – the one in which Larson was just taking his seat.

Brandt could have cursed inwardly, had he not been too busy keeping an eye on who was going where next:

As it turned out, they ended up with Ethan, Larson, one bodyguard and one driver in the first limousine, while Brandt was asked to take a seat in the second car together with Julio, another bodyguard, and the driver who would commandeer the second limo.

'So much for staying close to Ethan,' Brandt thought darkly, as he settled in on the backseat of the second car, while both limos slowly pulled out one after the other from the curb, headed down the road towards the back exit of the country club. Once they passed the exit gate, the two limos gained speed immediately.

And as Benji and Luthor watched the procession from the top of their nearby hill, they couldn't help but wonder how they had ever thought they were actually in charge of this mission.

Because, no matter which way you looked at this, their current situation all came down to one big bottom line: They hadn't outthought Ethan.

Ethan was now pretty much alone in a speeding car with Larson.

And Larson…

Larson was as good as dead.

-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-

_To be continued … if anyone is interested in finding out happens next? ;)_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**a.k.a. The Illusion of Control**

Jane pulled out of her hiding spot the moment the cars passed the road below hers. With a respectable delay, she followed the two limos, making sure not to be seen, but close enough to be able to provide backup for whatever situation might arise.

And, considering that they had seemingly just lost control of one very important aspect of this mission – namely one Ethan Hunt - she was pretty sure that some kind of situation would arise, and soon.

Benji and Luthor meanwhile did their best to follow the limos via satellite, using the tracking beacons that Ethan and Brandt were wearing in the watches. As soon as they had a stable video feed from the sky, they began lagging after Jane and the limos with their much slower surveillance van. Luthor was in charge of the driving, while Benji's ears were closely tuned in to every sound that was coming through the audio feeds from Brandt and Ethan. That is, until Benji looked up with a frown.

For a moment he tried to fine-tune the signal a little, thinking that perhaps a canyon or something like that was interfering with the signal strength. After another moment of indefinable rustling on one of the feeds, however, the audio signal from that feed fell silent alltogether.

Feeling a coat of cold sweat breaking out on his face, Benji instantly tried to connect to the one remaining audio source he had within the limos. He spoke to Brandt:

"Uh, Brandt, I think I have some…..uh, not so good news." Benji hesitated to find the right words.

Inside the car, Brandt was meanwhile doing his best not to give away that he had heard Benji at all. Part of him wanted to just tell Benji to spit out the _latest_ bad news in their seemingly growing load of bad news, while the other part of him figured he was already having such a bad day, it couldn't become much worse, anyway. So, sinking just a tad further into his seat, he simply listened to Benji's next words:

"I think, uh…..well, actually, I'm pretty much _sure_ that…uhm, Ethan just switched off his mike."

Okay. Maybe this day _could_ get worse, after all.

Brandt inconspicuously sat up a little straighter again, a move that neatly coincided with the distinct 'Damn it!" that suddenly reverberated through his earwig.

'Well, that answers the question whether Jane has heard the good news yet,' Brandt concluded dryly.

Personally, he would have loved to join her very accurate assessment of the situation with some expletives of his own, but considering that he was still sitting right across from the watchful Julio, and next to a pretty non-humorous bodyguard, he decided to keep his sentiments to himself for now. Until they reached their destination at whatever storage facility these guys were taking them to, there wasn't much else Brandt could do.

Well, at least they were still all going in the same direction.

-o-

"At least they're all still going in the same direction," Benji called out to Luthor in an attempt at hopefullness.

Now, if only Ethan didn't do anything rash between here an- …

The first car suddenly swerved off the road.

Benji saw it first. And he immediately reacted.

"Jane!"

"I see it! I don't know what he's doing, but you can bet that was Ethan." She cursed loudly, before collecting herself. Then she took charge of their side of the mission, "You and Luthor go after Brandt. Get him out of that car! I'll follow Ethan!"

"Okay," Benji confirmed hastily, giving Luthor the signal to 'floor it' and the van immediately sped up.

Brandt, meanwhile, had only his earwig to keep him apprised of what was going on around him. But having heard Jane say that Ethan had just done 'something', and that she was going after him, pretty much told Brandt all he needed to know. Their mission had just gone to hell in a hand basket.

The only good thing was: having that knowledge before anyone else in the car, he was able to react just one second faster than anyone else.

When Brandt saw the driver frown at something that was apparently happening with the first car, Brandt was ready. Just as the driver made to look over his shoulder, probably to say something to Julio, Brandt instinctively kicked out with one arm to his right, ramming his elbow straight into his guard's throat. The guy fell forward onto his knees, alternating between harsh coughing and incomprehensible groaning – either way, he was clearly incapacitated for the moment.

Instantly Brandt followed through with a second kick, this time with his foot straight out, towards the man sitting across from him. He caught Julio just beneath the chin, knocking him backwards in the seat. With a bleeding mouth and nose, probably due to some broken bone somewhere in his face, Julio immediately tried to sit back up, to try and retaliate, but again Brandt was faster.

He pulled his gun from the hidden holster at his ankle, and pointed the weapon right at Julio. With his other hand, Brandt reached for the guard beside him, roughly grabbed some shirt and jacket-material, and hurled the man onto the seat across from him, so that both the guard and Julio were now neatly sitting next to each other – with Brandt's gun pointed right at them.

With a serious voice, that left no doubt he meant business, Brandt then addressed Julio.

"Tell your driver that we're stopping this car. Right now."

Julio didn't.

The driver, however, seemed to value his life a little more. Disregarding Julio's failure to comply, the driver took one more look at the gun in Brandt's hand – and simply pulled over on his own accord.

Julio was now fuming with rage at being so blatantly outvoted. Brandt didn't care, as they finally came to a stop. Roughly a minute later, Brandt heard a car pull up next to theirs. It was the van. Immediately, Luthor jumped out, and helped Brandt with getting the three men out of the car. While Luthor then proceeded to tie up their wrists with plastic cuffs, Brandt got himself an update from Benji.

After listening to the latest developments, Brandt asked both Luthor and Benji:

"Alright, so do we know where Ethan is going?"

He only got a shake of head from Luthor, followed by a scared-sounding conclusion from Benji:

"I don't know, his mike is out, and we also lost his beacon a couple of miles back. It's like he deliberately switched it all off."

"Shit…" Brandt kicked angrily at the dusty earth beneath him. Then he turned to Julio, who had been sat on the ground next to the limo with his two friends. An idea was forming in Brandt's mind, one that might give them a chance to find Ethan still in time.

"Tell me where that storage is," Brandt demanded.

Julio, however, continued to think Brandt wasn't worth a reply.

That changed when Brandt suddenly seemed to lose the last stretch of his already compromised self-control. With an angry snarl he reached down and bodily pulled Julio to his feet, grabbing his neck with one hand and starting to squeeze until he was sure that Julio's attention was entirely on him.

"I'm gonna ask this nicely, one last time: Where is that storage?" Brandt growled right into Julio's face.

Julio's feet were no longer touching the ground.

Still he didn't answer.

Benji wasn't sure what Brandt would do next, and honestly, he wasn't sure he wanted to know. But then Luthor stepped forward. He put an almost buddy-like hand on Julio's shoulder, completely disregarding Julio's disbelieving glance at him.

"Julio, wasn't it?" Luthor asked almost amicably, but there was a steel-edge to his voice that was impossible to miss, "Okay, _Julio_… I want you to listen up closely now…because I want you to understand something I'm gonna share with you: Not that I care what happens to any of you guys, but if you value your bosses life, I suggest you tell us where that car was supposed to go. Because right now your boss is in the company of a man who very much wants to see him _dead. _And I'm inclined to think you don't want to see that happen."

Julio could see that Luthor was serious. And it made him hesitate.

But before they could find out if he was really ready to sing, Jane's voice suddenly came on over the com line on Brandt's earwig.

"Guys, I really hope you're hearing me. Ethan's car just turned off the road again ten miles south of you, at a warehouse complex. I'm gonna follow him in, but I could really use some backup. Please copy if you hear me."

Brandt instantly replied:

"Jane, we're here. Julio and his guys are taken care of. Do you see Ethan?" Brandt added hurriedly.

"Negative. Nobody has left the car, and it's still moving, but it looks like they're driving right into one of the warehouses. I can't see more yet."

"Okay, stay on him. The women are probably there, too, and even if Ethan has Larson, there is a chance that Ethan will make him release the women to complete the mission before he kills Larson. Try to delay him if possible. We're on our way."

Knowing that Jane would do what she could until they got there, Brandt then quickly turned to address Benji and Luthor.

"Benji, you and Luthor put the guard and the driver in the van. I'll take Julio with me. Follow us to the storage!"

Brandt grabbed the cuffed Julio and threw him in the backdoor of the limo. Slamming the door shut behind the shocked man, Brandt then slipped behind the wheel of the limo himself.

And then he floored it, hoping they wouldn't be too late.

-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-

_To be continued...up next: let's check on what Ethan's been doing, shall we?_


	9. Chapter 9

_Thank you for all your kind feedback. Here is another chapter for all of you, especially for those who want to know what Ethan has been up to in the meantime. It isn't beta'd, but I hope you'll like it anyway._

_Oh and, more feedback is always appreciated. :-)_

**Chapter 9**

**a.k.a. Blink and You're Gone**

Inside the back of the limousine, Ethan sat quietly next to the guard on the backseat. Across from Ethan, on another backseat, Larson was just getting himself a drink from the mini-bar beside his seat. With a self-serving smile, he offered Ethan one, as well.

"Would you care for a drink, Mr. Harrier?"

"No...No thank you," Ethan waved off the offer with a slight shake of his head, and by way of further explanation, he added meaningfully, "I would actually prefer to have a clear head when we take a look at the ladies, if you don't mind."

"Oh, of course. I certainly understand," Larson instantly related to what he thought was Ethan's reasoning behind that statement, "It would be easy to accidentally buy some faulty goods in the rush of excitement...and they have to last a while, don't they?" Larson chuckled.

"But don't worry, we offer a great variety to meet any requirements you may have. I assume your previous 'model' wasn't entirely satisfactory, in that regard...?"

Larson never noticed how Ethan's left fist stiffened just out of sight. In fact, taking Ethan's prolonged silence as discreet agreement, Larson continued in complete understanding. Or so he thought.

"I have had that experience myself a couple of times, actually. With some of them, no matter how hard you train 'em, they're just not willing to 'learn', are they?" Larson actually laughed out loud at the implication of his words.

Both the guard and Larson wore knowing smiles on their faces – they had obviously dealt with such 'problems' before. While they were sharing the joke, however, none of them noticed how Ethan's hand accidentally seemed to brush against one of the buttons at the cuff of his tuxedo. An unobserved twist of thumb later, the button came free, landing at Ethan's feet. He never even took his eyes off Larson, as he slowly moved his foot to step on it.

'I'm sorry, Benji, but this broadcast ends here...'

Ethan then watched the still chuckling Larson half turn his shoulders around to address his driver; Larson obviously intended to tell the man which route to take at the next crossroads.

It was a move Larson would regret.

Because it meant he failed to see the sudden look of pure fury cross Ethan's face.

By the time Larson turned back around to check what had caused the weird cracking sound he had just heard, two things met Larson almost simultaneously:

The first was the sight of his bodyguard, who was slumped forward in his seat with his neck at a very unnatural angle.

The second thing Larson saw was the gun that was suddenly pointed right at his face.

It was held by one very angry-looking Ethan Hunt.

For a moment, Larson could do nothing but stare at it, too shocked to even understand what had just happened – it had happened so fast.

Ethan didn't care one bit about Larson's confusion or shock. Holding his gun steady at Larson's face, he calmly addressed the driver in the front of the limo:

"Keep driving."

Ethan's eyes never even looked at the driver as he said those words. The carefully controlled stare that Ethan fixed Larson with made one wonder if Ethan actually saw anything else in that moment.

The driver must have thought along similar lines. Noticing his boss' sudden dire situation via the rear-view mirror, he made the mistake of thinking that Ethan's concentration on Larson pretty much equalled an all-embracing inattentiveness to everything else. It was to become the last mistake the driver ever made.

As the driver reached for a hidden weapon in his front seat door compartment, he did succeed in getting the gun out of its holding space – but he never got to the point of actually shooting it, as he suddenly slumped sideways onto the steering wheel with a very neat hole in his heart.

Ethan never even gave the shocking sight a second glance, although it clearly had been his gun that had taken out the driver. Feeling the car swerve off the road, Larson's eyes grew even wider.

"Take his place." Ethan coldly addressed Larson again, not even giving the car a chance to slow down noticeably.

It was crazy. It was insane. But Larson didn't dare challenge the deadly calmness with which the order was given to him.

As soon as Larson began moving, Ethan reached forward and past Larson with one hand to shove the dead driver into the passenger seat, before he forced Larson to slide forward into the driver's seat to take over the wheel. The entire move was accomplished within seconds, aided by Larson's wish not to antagonize Ethan any further at this point. Larson did, however, look decidedly uncomfortable, as he had to put his hands on the now bloody steering wheel.

Not that Ethan cared.

"I'm sure this road isn't the only way to your storage," Ethan looked past Larson at the road ahead of them, efficiently switching from the backseat he had previously occupied to the seat that Larson had just vacated. Seemingly in complete control and aware of everything that was going to happen around them, Ethan gave Larson the next order:

"I want you to take the short cut across country. And you better shake off that second car. Do it now, or you die where you're sitting."

Larson didn't need to be told twice. Within minutes they could no longer see anyone following him.

Still, Ethan knew that somewhere behind them, the van would be following. He took care of this minor annoyance by switching off the beacon in his watch. That only left Jane, who had to have noticed by now that he was no longer playing by their rules. But it didn't matter. By the time she caught up with him, he'd be done. Long done.

About ten minutes later, Larson pulled the limousine off the dirt path they had been following, and they switched onto a side road, which they followed again until it divided up into a dead-end and another small path that led to what looked like an old warehouse area. Located right in the middle of nowhere, the whole complex looked decidedly like a ghost town. Rundown, rusty and forgotten. But the increasingly apprehensive glare on Larson's face let Ethan know that they were indeed at the right place.

Telling Larson – with an explicit move of his gun against the back of Larson's head – to go straight to where the women were being kept, Ethan watched Larson drive past the first two entrances of the structure until they reached a large, half-open loading gate. Larson drove right up to the gate, steering the car through the gap and down the twenty feet wide driveway that led through the middle of the warehouse. Larson took the car about halfway down the path. That's where they stopped.

To the left and right of them, there were several storage areas within the warehouse, with numerous maze-like corridors of wall-to-wall shelves, some of them leading off to shadowy landings higher up, to the second, and some even to the third level. On the ground-level, about thirty feet ahead of the limousine, there were several cargo containers parked against the interior wall of the structure. Three of the containers, the ones on the right, appeared to be kept just a bit more apart from the rest of the storage.

That was also were Larson happened to be looking, before he quickly let his eyes roam back to the rear-view mirror to see what the man behind him was doing. But before Larson could ask with growing irritation what the hell Ethan intended to do next, Ethan simply put a strong hand on Larson's shoulder.

"Get out." Ethan said coldly, as he slid across the seat to be directly behind Larson, so as to be ready to mirror Larson's moves. Ethan also rearranged the hold on his gun, so that the weapon itself was now neatly out of sight, but never actually left Larson's back.

Larson reluctantly followed the order.

Once they were outside the car, Ethan stayed just slightly behind Larson and to his left, shielding himself from the direct view of the two men at the end of the walkpath, who had begun to approach them as soon as they had seen their boss exit the limousine. They had apparently been guarding the three special containers.

The two guys never knew what hit them.

They were dead before the echo of Ethan's shots even stopped reverberating in the large hall.

"Now, I assume you have a key…" Ethan said without any emotions in his voice.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Larson answered with growing frustration. Considering that he had just lost two more of his men, he was slowly finding it very hard to keep playing the helpless marionette for much longer. In fact, he was starting to become so annoyed with this cold-blooded bastard behind him, that he was starting to ignore the gun that was now once again openly pointed at him. Larson's voice clearly showed his irritation, as he turned to face Ethan:

"But seeing how it looks like you're gonna kill me, as well, the second I give this key to you, I first want to know who the _hell_ you think you are, that you think you can just waltz right in here and take what's mine!"

That stopped Ethan.

"You want to know who I am?" A pause, then something akin to a dry laugh, "Do you really?" Ethan's voice suddenly lost all warmth, as his gun arm levelled out again, this time pointing right at Larson's heart.

"I will tell you." Ethan slowly nodded, as if to show Larson that he would grant him that wish. "I will tell you even more than that." Ethan's eyes hardened. "I will tell you her _name_."

Anger started creeping into Ethan's voice. Slowly. Dangerously.

"Her name… was Julia."

"What?" Larson clearly wasn't following. It made Ethan even angrier.

"_Julia_." Ethan repeated her name, as if it should mean something to Larson. But seeing that Larson didn't even have the dignity to remember the names of the people who had died because of him, Ethan slowly shook his head in disgust, as he felt hot tears of anger well up in his eyes. Tears he wouldn't allow to fall, as he continued to address Larson:

"You probably also never knew that she liked to be called 'Julie', don't you? _Julie_. Like her mother." Ethan's arm shook a little as he spoke, but his aim held true. "And you're probably wondering how I know all that, _don't_ you...?" Ethan spat out, his anger finally close to the surface.

One last time Ethan readjusted his aim. As he stepped closer to the man before him, his gun levelled out directly at Larson's head.

"You probably never even saw any of them as human beings. Human beings who had families. Friends. People that cared about them. You're wondering how I know that?" Ethan asked, actually losing his voice for a second as the meaning of his own words hit him.

Ethan was now only four feet away from Larson. His arm was stretched out straight before him, the gun in his hand pointed right at Larson's head. The gun was steady. But the rest of Ethan was now shaking with fury.

"So you really wanna know how I _know_ that?" Ethan asked again, his voice getting louder now.

And when Larson failed to answer him, Ethan had to force himself to look through the angry tears in his eyes, so he could finish:

"I _know_ ... because she was _**MY**_ **WIFE**!" Ethan roared.

The silence after this was immense.

Larson didn't say a word. But he finally realized that he was not just facing another business man. Not even just another opponent. No. He realized that he was facing the man who would kill him.

"Now. Hand me that key." Ethan was able to press out between clenched teeth, barely holding on to the rest of his control, as he held out his left hand.

"It wasn't me."

Ethan's hand froze.

"It wasn't me." Larson repeated.

Ethan's eyes narrowed dangerously as he whispered voicelessly.

"Don't lie to me. Just…don't."

"It was Julio!" Larson yelled out, desperation now ruling his actions.

"I never killed any of those women, that was Julio's job!" he called out to Ethan, not knowing if the man would even believe him, but grasping at straws now.

"I don't care if it was your _gun_ or your _word_ that killed her," Ethan deliberately pulled back the trigger on his gun, "Now give me that key, or you die right here and I'll just take it from you."

Seeing his life flash before his eyes, Larson decided that the handing over of the key was probably worth the extra minute it would get him to live. Anything to perhaps find a way to stall this man further. So he slowly reached into his jacket and pulled out the ke-…..

"No!" Jane's voice cut through the warehouse like a bullet.

From her position on a landing one floor above the two men, she had seen Ethan facing Larson, and as it appeared that Larson was about to pull a gun on Ethan, she knew she had to try and stop whatever was about to happen.

Unfortunately, her yell made Ethan's eyes flicker upwards briefly as he tried to determine the source of the unexpected noise – and the moment was enough for Larson to seize the opportunity and make a break for the maze of steel corridors behind him. He had never run so fast before in his life.

Ethan cursed loudly as he instantly turned back to face Larson, only to find the man had vanished.

"No! Dammit!" Ethan yelled out, his entire frustration packed into these two words.

And as he looked behind himself, he could suddenly hear the screeching sound of another limousine coming to a halt behind the first one.

He didn't wait around to see who would get out of the car.

Ethan started to run.

-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-

_To be continued…for the final showdown. I can promise you that someone will get shot. But I'm not telling you 'who'… ;)_


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note: _

_Does anyone still remember this story? LOL_

_Well, I guess it's time to continue where we left off…_

_Here is the next part. Enjoy! And if you like it, feedback is always appreciated. :o)_

_P.S. at nunquam perpetuum: *cough* I hear you *cough* I hear you *wink* but patience is a virtue, you know that, right? *wink* ; )_

**Chapter 10**

**a.k.a. To Dance with the Devil…**

As soon as the limousine came to a screeching halt on the concrete floor, its braking sounds echoing loudly through the warehouse, Jane's ear-mike crackled to life, as well.

"Jane, I'm here, where is Ethan?" Brandt's breathless voice instantly inquired.

She could see Brandt getting out of the limo just as she saw Ethan taking off after Larson at a dead-run.

'Damn it,' she cursed inwardly, before answering Brandt:

"You just missed him. He's chasing Larson, about half-way ahead of you and to your left, through those steel frames. I'm losing sight of him, but we gotta stop him before he catches up with Larson! Go!"

Brandt didn't need to be told twice.

"Alright, I'm going after him. You gotta try and find the women in the meantime!"

"We're almost there, too," Luthor's voice suddenly came through the same channel, announcing their imminent arrival as well.

In fact, just as Jane saw Brandt taking off after Ethan, she could already hear the van outside. Making use of her vantage point of view, she quickly divided up their forces to increase their chances of sealing off the warehouse:

"Luthor, don't come inside through the front, you and Benji go straight around back. If anybody comes out that way, cut them off any way you can. That includes Ethan!"

There was a short pause in communications, but then Benji's voice joined in, clearly hesitant:

"Do we…uh...?"

Jane knew what he was asking.

"We _don't_ let Ethan kill Larson," the order was not easy to give for her, but she knew she had to say it, "Do whatever is necessary."

It was Luthor who eventually acknowledged her words. And when he did, it was with a tone so calm that told her he realized the consequences of that order. His reply consisted of only one word.

"Understood."

Jane was aware she might have just signed Ethan's death warrant.

She could only hope he surrendered before it got that far.

-o-

When Larson saw the man's eyes flicker upward – he moved. And he moved as fast as he had never moved before. He didn't know if it would save his life, but he had never been one to let opportunities pass by. Especially when those opportunities decided about whether he would live or die. He had no idea who had called out that "NO!" just then, but he wasn't gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

Larson was on the move.

And he was trying his best to outrun his pursuer.

Initially, the guy was so close behind him that Larson thought he would be caught within seconds. But when Larson managed to kick over a roll of wire-mesh, hurling it past himself and straight into the way of his pursuer, he saw with relief that the man behind him actually stumbled, crashing heavily into the side of another steel frame within the corridor.

Larson could hear the sound of a hearty curse, as apparently his pursuer got stuck with his jacket on a sharp edge of steel. But before Larson could even sigh a breath of relief, he saw out of the corner of his eye how his pursuer managed to shrug out of the stuck jacket, angrily ripping himself out of the tangle of steel and linen. The torn jacket was left behind. And once more, the chase was on.

Larson was running with all he had, his breath now coming in short puffs, his legs pumping and his heart beating like it had never before. He could hear the footsteps coming after him. Coming closer again.

"Shit!" Larson cursed breathlessly as he turned yet another corner, hoping to lose his pursuer in the maze of corridors. So far no luck. Whoever this guy was, he was sure taking this personal.

Moments later Larson could hear more feet running, this time, however, coming from a different direction.

'Did Julio finally get here?' Larson thought with a flicker of hope.

If that sound of footsteps running towards him from the other side was Julio, together they might turn the tables on his pursuer, after all.

'Oh yeah, and then I'm gonna skin that bastard alive for what he did to my guards', Larson thought angrily.

For the first time in the past thirty minutes, Larson started to think he might get out of this alive.

-o-

For a split second, Brandt could see Ethan.

But then the shadow was already out of sight once more, hidden behind yet another steel frame, racing around another corner faster than Brandt could even look.

He couldn't follow Ethan this way. It just was no good.

So, halting for just a second, Brandt decided to try something else. If he couldn't chase Ethan, he would chase Larson.

In order to do that, he would have to think like Larson. If he could cut off Larson's path, he would inevitably also find Ethan.

'Where are you going, Larson?" Brandt thought, racking his brain as he looked around himself for alternate routes through this maze. Specifically, for a route that would take him past Ethan and Larson on a shortcut.

Coming to a decision, Brandt broke off his direct pursuit of Ethan, and he took off down a side corridor. He could still hear the sounds of running, but the further he went, the more the sounds seemed to be coming from the front of him. He was indeed circling around them!

And suddenly, he saw a man breaking through another corridor right before him.

"Larson! Hold it!"

Brandt instantly aimed his gun at Larson.

It succeeded in making Larson come to a shocked stop. Larson looked like a deer caught in the headlights, staring right at Brandt's gun.

But then the click of another gun safety being released was audible to both Brandt and Larson at the same time.

Brandt took one eye off Larson, carefully, to check the source of the new sound, but he was afraid he already knew where it had come from.

It was Ethan.

"He's mine." Ethan growled, his breathing still rough from the chase, but eerily controlled as he stepped forward, out of the corridor behind Larson.

Larson was now standing right between Brandt and Ethan. If Larson moved forward, Brandt would shoot. If Larson moved back, he would not get past Ethan.

Larson was no longer sure what exactly was being played here, or who all the players really were, but he realized that his best call right now would be to stand very, _very_ still – and hope that whoever got the upper hand in this argument, it would be someone who would eventually let him live.

"Ethan, let me take care of this…" Brandt called out past Larson, hoping to get through to Ethan, so Ethan would not do what it looked like he was about to do.

Ethan was either not listening to him, or he was so focused on Larson that he really hadn't heard him. Without any sign of acknowledgement of Brandt's words, Ethan slowly moved further out of the shadows, his gun hand steady as he circled his target.

"Ethan, don't DO this!"

Brandt could see now that Ethan was in fact ignoring him. But Brandt kept trying. He _had_ to keep trying to stop this.

"Ethan, you don't want to do this… _Julia_ wouldn't want you to do this."

As if in direct answer to Brandt's words, Ethan simply cocked his gun, slowly. It was now pointed once more right at Larson's heart.

Brandt was painfully aware that he had very few options left now. And whatever option he chose, he knew he had to sound like he was in perfect control, or this would not work. Carefully keeping his gun still on Larson, Brandt addressed Ethan once more.

"Ethan, I want you to lower your gun and step back from Larson," Brandt's words were clear and to the point, not leaving any doubt that he meant what he said, "As soon as you lower your gun, we will arrest this man, and he will never see daylight again, I promise."

He cautiously watched Ethan for any kind of reaction.

What he got instead was a sudden crackle in his earpiece:

"I have found the women," it was Jane's voice, "they are in a container with two dead guys in front, I'm breaking the container locks now."

Just as Brandt pondered whether he could spare a moment to acknowledge Jane's words, another voice sounded through his earpiece. It was Luthor.

"Brandt, we can see you. I'm sending Benji to go help Jane. I'm coming to you."

Never letting his eyes move off Ethan or Larson, Brandt only reacted with one word in response to the voices in his ear:

"Sure."

And he hoped he sounded casual enough that Ethan wouldn't realize the web around him had just gotten tighter.

Still covering Larson with his gun, Brandt then slowly started moving towards Ethan.

"Ethan, I'm coming over to you, and you will give me your gun, do you understand?"

Ethan apparently didn't understand. Brandt could see his finger tightening around the trigger of the gun.

Outwardly undeterred by that development, but cursing inwardly, Brandt made it a point to keep moving further around towards Ethan, until he was about the same distance away from Ethan as Larson, but off to Ethan's left side. As soon as he was one step past Larson, Brandt's focus slowly began shifting from Larson to Ethan. Brandt knew that Ethan's aim on Larson was still true, so the action was not much of a risk.

"You can't kill an unarmed man, Ethan…" Brandt tried again, almost pleadingly, to reach Ethan's conscience.

But he could see that Ethan was close to the point of no return.

Just then a shadow seemed to cross Ethan's face, and his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. Whether it was a sign of last-minute hesitation or the last stage of a no longer controllable rage, Brandt didn't know. But when Brandt saw it, three things suddenly happened almost simultaneously:

Larson, who had seen the sudden hue of darkness in Ethan's eyes, decided he couldn't stand still any longer. In a last attempt to save his life, Larson made a move to run again.

As soon as Larson moved, Brandt tensed.

And as Brandt tensed. Ethan fired.

-o-

_To be continued…and then we'll see who hit what ;)_


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's Note: _

_First of all, sorry that it's taking me so long to update anything at the moment. I've got a new job, which I love very much, but that work is taking up most of my day. _

_Anyway…_

_Since I keep getting asked to please continue this story (I think I got everything from threats to bribes to begging etc. LOL), let's just say that I simply could not sit by idly anymore…I just had to give you something new, even if it's only a short chapter. _

_So, while I can't say when the next chapter will be up, please be assured that there are gonna be more chapters to come. _

_Enjoy! : o)_

**Chapter 11**

**a.k.a. There is Life After Death**

For the briefest moment, Brandt was blinded by the muzzle flash as the sound of the shot echoed against the walls all around them.

But just as he expected to see Larson crashing to the ground with a neat hole in his head, Brandt realized that reality looked slightly different. He became aware that what he had thought to be a shot and an echo wasn't just that. There had been _two_ shots.

And only one of them had been Ethan's.

The instant it took Brandt to come to that realization was the same second it took for him to see Ethan's right shoulder suddenly jerk forward, like something had kicked Ethan from behind. As Ethan was flung forward and slightly sideways, Brandt saw a flash of red on the back of Ethan's white shirt before Ethan went down hard.

And from what Brandt could see, Ethan stayed motionless where he fell, face down.

Instinctively relying on his training as an agent, Brandt immediately used all his senses to take in every possible detail to assess the new situation.

Judging by the small hole on the back of Ethan's shirt, which was slowly staining red across the shoulder, it looked like a bullet had caught Ethan from behind, high and fast, subsequently spinning him around and taking him down.

One thing was for sure: Ethan had been shot.

That left the question of one very important detail: shot by _whom_?

Brandt's first thought was Larson, which was why his eyes immediately refocused on Larson's form. But even as Brandt's attention shifted, he could see that Larson was not a likely candidate. For one thing, the man did not have a gun – Ethan had quite obviously disarmed him earlier on – and secondly, Larson was way too busy to even _think_ about firing a gun. He was busy running.

In fact, Larson was so intent on putting as much distance between himself and Ethan that he wasn't even aware that his path was crossing directly with Brandt's – who merely had to reflexively grab on to Larson as the man tried to move past him. With a swift move Brandt grabbed a hold of Larson's jacket and swung him around, using the man's own momentum to bring him efficiently down on the floor, with Brandt's knee safely at Larson's back, so the man would stay exactly where Brandt wanted him to stay. Namely down and out of the equation.

Holding Larson safely to the ground with his knee, Brandt kept the muzzle of his handgun right on the man's neck to let him know he wasn't in the mood for any more games – which finally gave Brandt the time to look up again and towards where Ethan was down. He still had no idea where on earth that shot had come from.

But just as Brandt's eyes refocused – seeing Ethan still laying motionless on the ground and bleeding from the wound in the shoulder - Brandt noticed the shape of a second person just moving out of the shadows some way past where Ethan had stood. It was Luthor.

There was no haste to Luthor's moves. And considering that Luthor had his gun out but lowered, with a rather reluctant expression on his face, it did not take long for Brandt to understand what must have happened.

Luthor had been forced to take the shot. He had seen that Ethan was going do it, had realized that Ethan was gonna fire, and that Brandt would not be able to keep it from happening. So when Ethan's finger had tightened on the trigger, Luthor had waited until the last possible moment, until he was sure there was no other way – and he had fired just a millisecond before Ethan. As Luthor's bullet found its mark in Ethan's shoulder, it messed up Ethan's aim just enough to make Ethan's shot go wide – thus saving Larson's live.

It had been a risky shot for Luthor, as any bullet fired from such a close distance always packed quite a punch -– but Luthor's aim had been true.

As Brandt saw Luthor kneel beside Ethan, checking him quickly, Luthor's slow nod was all the confirmation Brandt needed. The shot may have knocked Ethan out in quite a drastic way, but the damage by the bullet itself was contained to a not life-threatening wound. One that, albeit most certainly painful, would not leave any lasting damage.

Not of the physical kind, at least.

As for the emotional damage…well, that was one whole other can of worms they would have to deal with. But that would have to come later. Much later. For now, Ethan was still unconscious. And for now, there were other things that needed their attention.

'Time to clean this mess up,' Brandt thought darkly.

Using the arm with which he wasn't holding his gun at Larson, Brandt raised the hidden microphone in his sleeve up to his mouth, and he put out a call to the rest of the team, to find out what their situation was.

"Benji? Jane? Anybody there?"

"Right here, at the container," Jane's reply was almost immediate, "but I heard shots. What's your situation?"

There was a definite touch of worry in Jane's otherwise professional voice.

Benji's reply was not far behind, both in terms of timing and concern:

"This is Benji, I'm with Jane, we're with the women at the container, and they are alright, I think. Did you guys find Ethan?" Benji's words almost poured out on top of each other, his nervousness getting the better of him.

Brandt knew he would have to say _some_thing, or Benji was liable to give himself a coronary from worrying.

"Well...," Brandt began, as he looked over to where Luthor was just putting some first-aid bandages on Ethan's shoulder to begin field-dressing the wound he had caused, "...we got the situation contained, and we got Larson, but I don't think Ethan will be too happy with us when he comes to..."

"_Comes to?_! What happened?" Benji immediately asked right back.

'Good question,' Brandt thought to himself, but any more answers would have to wait for now, for all of them.

"Later, Benji." Brandt summed it up with a heavy sigh, and while the words themselves sounded rather heartless, Brandt's voice clearly carried a tone of 'I'm sorry, I know you are worried, and so am I, but unfortunately we don't have time for this now.'

Brandt could well understand Benji's need to know what happened. Hell, he would probably react the same way, if he was in Benji's shoes. But there were other things more important at the moment.

"For now, let's see that we get this mess taken care of," Brandt began issuing orders, "We're gonna need some backup, so you better call in IMF so they can pick up those women. They need to be checked out and brought back to their families."

When Benji eventually replied after a short pause, Brandt could hear Benji's acceptance of what they both knew needed to be done.

"Yes...right...of course." Benji conceded, realizing that this had to be their main focus right now. Get the civilians home. Get Larson dealt with. And then… deal with Ethan. Or what was left of the man they knew as Ethan.

The only thing they could do for Ethan right now was to take him out of the line of fire as far as the IMF was concerned.

Neither of them had any doubts that once the IMF sent them the requested backup, there would be questions. Question that they and Ethan would have to answer. And if those questions were answered entirely truthfully by any of them, it would not bode well for Ethan.

There would be repercussions from IMF.

Serious repercussions.

But considering the state of mind that Ethan was likely to be in once he woke up, neither the IMF questions nor the likely consequences were going to help Ethan in any way.

And help was what Ethan needed right now. They may have lost Ethan's trust for good, but they would not feed him to the wolves. That much they all agreed on.

So, while Benji and Jane kept the official part of the operation well in hand, Brandt and Luthor began taking care of the not so official part. Brandt grabbed a hold of Larson, bodily yanking the man to his feet without any regards to the fine suit the man was wearing, and he pushed Larson ahead to move the man over to where the limos were still parked. Once there, Brandt did not hesitate to open the trunk – where Julio had already been safely stowed to stew – and he motioned for Larson to step forward.

"I think you two will fit nicely," Brandt motioned once with his gun, "And if you don't – well, tough luck. Either way, you're gonna bunk for a while."

Larson looked at Brandt incredulously, thinking that this had to be a joke. The look in Brandt's eyes, however, coupled with an unmistakable cocking of Brandt's gun assured Larson that Brandt _was_ serious. Deadly serious.

Once Brandt had safely locked Larson and Julio in the trunk of the one limo, Brandt went back into the maze of corridors, where Luthor had meanwhile wrapped up Ethan's shoulder good enough for travel. Making sure not to jostle the injury too much, Luthor and Brandt gently picked up Ethan from the ground and together they carried him over to the other car, where they carefully put Ethan on the backseat.

Then Brandt looked up and over towards the container, from where Jane was just approaching him. And he came to a decision.

Handing the keys for the other limo, the one with Julio and Larson in the trunk, to Jane, Brandt left quick instructions with her to make sure the IMF took care of Larson and Julio. Brandt then left her and Luthor in charge of the scene. Without breaking stride, and knowing that Luthor and Jane would take care of things here, Brandt quickly walked over to where Benji was standing guard, a few paces away from them all near the entrance of the warehouse. Taking a hold of Benji's arm, simply tugging him along, Brandt quietly told Benji to grab some communication equipment and his laptop from the van outside, and to then get in the back of the limousine with Ethan.

The 'uhm, what are we up to?' look that Brandt received from Benji at that point was almost enough to make Brandt smile, despite everything. He kept forgetting that Benji was still new to the field – and that their resident computer-specialist still had to learn that, sometimes, you simply had to improvise and play by a different rulebook. Or, if need be, throw the book completely out of the window.

Taking a moment, Brandt took Benji aside to explain. He informed Benji that the two of them were going to take Ethan out of here before the IMF arrived. Take him some place safe, away from the IMF, until Ethan was ready to deal with this, and with them.

They owed Ethan that much.

Brandt knew he would need Benji's computer-skills to find an adequate hideout location for that purpose. They might need to hack into some FBI safe-house lists, or maybe arrange for some out-of-the-way motel reservations. Benji would also come in handy when it eventually came to contacting Jane and Luthor without the IMF finding out about it, so they could all rejoin once the coast was clear.

But if Brandt was honest with himself, he had to admit that there was one other, maybe even _the_ most important reason why Brandt wanted Benji in the car with him and Ethan.

Brandt was fully aware that if Ethan woke up unexpectedly in the back of the limo before they reached their destination, there was a good chance that someone would get seriously hurt or killed. If Brandt were doing this alone, that someone would either be himself or Ethan. The same would hold true, if it was Jane or Luthor in Brandt's place.

But out of all of them, Benji was probably the only person that Ethan would not shoot on sight.

So, in a way, having Benji travelling along in the back with Ethan was not just helpful technology-wise, it was also a form of life-insurance for all of them.

As Brandt started the car and backed it out of the warehouse, he hoped they would make it to their destination safely.

He also hoped the rest of the team would rejoin them soon.

Driving in a car with an unconscious, injured, but _not_ incapacitated Ethan Hunt – who by now probably thought them to be the enemy - was a bit like pulling the pin out of a grenade and carefully wedging it between two sturdy bookends, hoping that this would be enough to keep the trigger from releasing.

You could get lucky.

The trigger might not move.

But if things went wrong, and the trigger unhinged - there was no telling who might get hurt.

_To be continued…soon. : )_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-

-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-


End file.
